there's no coming home
by graceviolets
Summary: all santana lopez ever wanted was to be someone, a star. so she drives off after graduation, vowing to never return. but things don't work out and four years later, she returns. to find something, or someone.


Noah Puckerman is the only one of his friends still living Lima. He didn't aspire for a Broadway career or a record deal. All he wanted was his own business, a house and a steady income. And that he could get anywhere, in Lima or Phoenix or wherever. So, not it doesn't bother him that he still lives in the small town where he was born. In fact, it has given him a lot of advantages. He was able to take over Burt's business, which it turned out Puck is brilliant at running. He has been able to see his baby sister grow up into a beautiful young woman. And he has been able to help his mom when out when her arthritis gets too bad.

…

Santana Lopez got out of that retched town on her graduation day. She packed her car and drove to LA without stopping for more than gas and bathroom breaks. Four years of trying to make it in the business and her Ohio accent is long gone. Her hair is long and shiny, her nails red and her body trimmed into perfection. And no, she hasn't had her big break yet, but that's no big deal. That commercial about fungus is nationwide, soon someone will call and hire her for some movie or show. She's sure of it. Or at least, sometimes she is. And sometimes she's not. Like when she's slaving away at the diner where she works so that old men can stare at her boobs and tip her enough to make rent. Then, she's not so confident.

…

"Hi loser."

He turns. She is standing a few feet away, hands on hips and grinning at him. And damn doesn't she look good. Her shorts are hardly more than panties and her t-shirt barely covers her belly button. He tries to rub some oil onto his pants before approaching her.

"Isn't it Ms Fungus?" he asks, smirking at her.

He kisses her cheek clumsily, thinking that's what they do in LA, where the fancy people live. She smells like car and sweat and expensive perfume.

"And aren't you Mr. Oil Change?"

"That's Sir Oil Change to you."

She rolls her eyes.

"Good to see you, San" he tells her, because it's true and lying was never his thing

"You too."

He hasn't seen her in four years, well except on her famous commercial and when he buys the crappy movies she has starred in.

"You're back."

"Yeah, visiting ma and pa, you know?"

"_Ma and Pa_?"

"Yeah."

He shakes her head at her.

"You own this place now?" she asks.

"Yeah, Burt gave it to me."

"That was nice of him."

"Yeah, well. He's too ill to run it himself and both his sons said no."

"Finn's in…?"

"Indianapolis, working as a cop."

"Right."

He swallowed. It was hot in the shop. His palms were wet.

"I have to dash" she told him. "Ma's making lunch."

"Oh, right."

"But do you wanna grab dinner later? You know, to catch up?"

He nods.

"Yeah, sure."

"Breadstix?"

"It's not called that anymore. It's a Chili's."

"No?"

"Yeah."

She shakes her head disapprovingly.

"See you at seven?" he asks.

She nods.

...

Her parents, a doctor and a housewife, never really liked the idea of her moving away to be a star. They wanted her to go to Ohio State and marry some lame guy and have already have three babies by now. But at 22, kids is the last thing on Santana's mind. So is love. There's just no time. Between going on auditions and test filming and working double-shifts on the diner, a boy wouldn't get much attention.

"No, no boyfriend" she tells her mother.

"And how's the work coming along?"

"Great" she lies.

"We watched that movie you were in, what was it called, _The braless detective_. It was… very good."

"It's crap, mom."

"Oh, no. you were great."  
>"The director's dad is a big deal, helping his son out might get me some parts."<p>

"Right."

They don't understand, Santana knows that. They don't get what it feels like to stand on stage, with everyone looking at you. Or playing a character with a camera on you. Or posing in front of the camera. Curing patients and cooking meals could never measure up. Santana knows that, but her parents don't.

…

He's not nervous for meeting Santana. Hell, he has seen her naked some many times that that would be absurd. But eating dinner was never something they did. He takes a shower and puts on clean shirt before leaving the house. It's only Chili's for Christ's sake. But evidently Santana has never been to one.

"Hi" she says.

She's wearing a tight, black dress that makes her look incredibly skinny, pointy boots and fake eyelashes.

"You look hot" he tells her and again does that ridiculous cheek kiss.

"You too. Who knew you could clean up?"

They're seated at a booth. It's a Wednesday and quiet in the restaurant.

"So, what is it you do?" he asks. "I mean, really?"

"I act and sing and model."

"All three?"

"Diversity is important."

"Right."

"I have this really big project coming up, can't say much though yet. But I'll be playing against a _huge _star."

Puck smiles.

"Great."

Maybe she has changed (God knows he has) but before, he could always tell when she was lying. And that sounded very much like a lie.

"And how's life here?"  
>"Calm, good. Hannah's a senior, dating some math geek. Mom's working part time at the hospital."<p>

"And you, any girlfriends?"

"No."

"Why not?"

He shrugs.

"I like life as it is."

They order. She picks a salad, he wants to make some snide comment about eating disorders, but chooses not to. Much has changed. LA might have done things to her head.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" he asks, just like her mom did.

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"No time."

"Right."

…

She had almost forgotten about his honesty. Puck is a lot of things, an ex-con, a screw-up, an ass, but he's not a liar. Quinn even doubts that he knows how to lie. He tells her about the quiet life in Lima. How they all left and he's was stuck behind. How he misses hanging out with people is own age. How running a business is hard during a recession. And she tells him only lies. That work in LA is great, that she lives in big apartment and parties with rock stars. That she doesn't cry herself to sleep because she's always too thin or too fat, or too busty or too flat-chested. That people tell her that she's a new Angelina Jolie. It's all lies. All of it.

"Thanks for tonight" he says.

"Yeah, thanks."

She wants him to ask him to come home with him. She hasn't slept with someone she actually likes in years. It' always for work or loneliness. And Puck could always make her feel special.

"Wanna grab a drink?" she asks desperately.

"I have work in the morning, San."

"Right, forgot."

"We can hang out afterwards if you like."  
>"Yeah" she says a bit too eagerly.<p>

"Okay."

"Okay."

"I'll call you tomorrow."

…

She dresses in her tightest jeans and lowest top. She does her make-up carefully and changes her hair eight times.

"Do you always dress like that?" he asks. "I mean, you look great, but we're just hanging out."

"Must be a habit" she says and feels silly.

He hands her a beer.

"I haven't had one of these for years" she smiles and silently counts the calories.

"No beer? Who are you?"

She grins and takes a big gulp.

"It tastes wonderful."

"Yeah."

The evening is warm and they sit on his deck.

"This house is great" she says and remembers her moldy one-room apartment.

"Thanks."

"You're doing good, aren't you?"

He snorts.

"That's what they say."

She lets her leg touch his. He doesn't react.

"Do you know what the others are doing?" he asks.

"Yeah, well. Brittany's married to rich guy, so she doesn't have to work, thank god. Quinn's in college, Sarah Lawrence, I think."

"Yeah, I heard about that."

"You still talk to her?"

He shook his head.

"No, not really."

"Berry's doing the Broadway thing" Santana says, trying to keep the jealousy out of her voice.

"Good for her."

"Yeah."

"And you're going to be a big star."

She smiles.

"Hope so."

"I know so. If this is what you wanna do, you'll do it. Santana Lopez always gets what she wants."  
>Santana swallows.<p>

"You really think so?"

"Of course."

…

They drink too much, like they always used to do, and end up having sex. Puck hasn't slept with anyone in months. To find girls his own age that look remotely fuckable, he has leave Lima and search the neighboring towns. His teenage-self would hate him right now.

"That was awesome" he breathes into her skin.

She giggles.

"I missed your face."

"I missed your boobs."

She snorts and act like she's affronted, but he knows that she is isn't. It's just a game they like to play.

"Are they bigger?" he asks.

"Just one more size."

He took a deep breath. He should tell her that she is perfect just the way she is, with or without plastic surgery. But it wasn't the right time. She would only get snappy and he really, really didn't want that.

"How's LA?" he asks. "I mean, for real?"

"What do you mean _for real_?"

Her voice is defensive.

"I mean, I've seen the movies, read the books. What's it really like?"

She seems to relax.

"Shallow, hectic, fake."  
>"Sounds wonderful."<p>

She smiles and looks so adorable that he has to kiss her.

"It's kind of nice being back" she whispers.

"Lima's not that fake, huh?"

"No."

He cradles her face and kisses her. She tastes just like she did four years ago.

"It's good to be back" she whispers.

…

He cancels his morning assignments and they drink red wine for breakfast in his bed. Santana feels relaxed for the first time in years.

"Do you ever wonder what would be different if we had acted in another way?" she wonders.

"What do you mean?"  
>"If I had gone to college instead of moving to California."<p>

"Well, life would be different."

"Yeah."

"Not necessarily better."

She exhales and hides her face in his chest.

"I'm not a star, Puck."

"Not yet."

"My biggest achievement is a commercial."

"Hey, what about that movie about the policewoman without a bra?"

She elbows him hard in the ribs.

"I needed money."

He snickers.

"I guess I just thought I would have done something by now. I mean, I've been out there for four years."

"You do things."

"Soon, I'm going to be too old."

"Come on, San…"

"I'm serious."

He looks at her seriously, she looks away.

"I work _so _hard."

"I know you do."

"And…"  
>"What?"<p>

"I did something stupid."

"What?"

She turns her back at him. He spoons her and she closes her eyes.

"I took nude photos."

"Oh god."

"For a magazine."

He snickers.

"Which one?"  
>"Shut up. I hated myself for doing it. But, but the guy said I might get in Elle if I did it."<p>

She took a deep breath.

"Maybe you will."

"No, Puck. I won't. I'm not pretty enough."

"Hey" he said softly, turning her face towards him. "You're the most beautiful girl I have ever met."

"Maybe by Lima standards where people shop clothes at Target and cut their hair twice a year."

He smiles.

"By any measures, San. You're hot and beautiful and sexy. And you're a kick ass singer."

"You really think so?"

"Do I ever lie?"

She leaned in and kissed him.

"No, you don't."

…

He makes them dinner again and she eats until she wants to puke. Her agent calls twice but she lets it go to voicemail. This is her first vacation in four years and being with Puck is the ultimate treat. He makes her wonderful food, fills her with wine and then pleasures her in every way.

"Why did we break up again?" she asks after sex.

His face is shiny with sweat.

"Something about my grade average."

"Such waste."

They kiss and Santana never wants him to stop touching her.

"Come with me" she whispers.

"What?"

"To LA. You can play guitar, they're always looking for hot guys who can play the guitar."

"Go with you? To California?"

"Yes! Why not? You're so much better than this town, Puck. What are you sticking around for?"  
>"I can't just leave. I have my family here, my business."<p>

"Come _on_, it's LA!"

He stiffens.

"You're not serious."

"Puck, do you wanna spend your entire life in this shithole?"

He gets up. The bed is empty without him.

"This _shithole _is my home."

"I know, come on, don't get pissed, you know what I mean."

"No, I don't."

"This town isn't going anywhere. All of us have moved on, except you. You're wasting away, wasting your talent on fixing cars. That's not a life, Puck."

He snorts.

"Is this why you came, Santana? To feel better about your life? Because, you're life might suck, but I can't be as bad ours?"  
>"No…"<p>

"You can dress up and get boob jobs and sleep with producers all you want, but you will never be better than us."

"You don't know what you're talking about."  
>"Because you're one of us, Santana."<p>

"I'm not. I'm not anymore. I feel _ashamed _of saying that I'm from this town."

"Then leave."

She gets up too.

"Fine."

…

When Puck gets home from work, he feels hung-over. He turns the TV on and there she is, talking about fungus while wearing a tiny bikini. He shuts the TV off, changes his sheets and goes to bed.

…

When Santana gets back to LA, she feels like crying. She calls her agent, goes to an audition and gets turned down. She spends the night with one of the men that tip her well at the diner. He's over forty and over-weight. She falls asleep half-way through.

…

He still has her on Google Alert and one day the naked pictures of her show up. They're in black and white and widely pornographic. But mostly, Santana looks miserable, miserable but hot.

"What are you doing to yourself?" he asks no one.

He scrolls down and sees that she has signed up for an open mic night. He buys a plane ticket and packs a bag.

…

She clings to the dream that there will be record manager in the audience that will want to sign her, but in reality it's mostly drunk people. She sings two songs she has written herself. She doesn't really like them, she likes soul and jazz, but that won't sell. So she sings pop songs about broken hearts and boys. She gets applauds afterwards, but most people just do it out of politeness.

"Hey" he says.

She turns. Puck is leaned against the wall, drinking a beer and looking relaxed. The happiness she feels trumps the feeling of guilt. She flung himself around his neck.

"Hey" she whispers.

"You were great."

"No, I wasn't."

"Yes, you were. Your songs sucked, but you were great."

She smiles.

"Look, I'm sorry…"

"Me too."

He extends his beer to her and she takes a swig.

"Wanna get out of here?" she asks.

He nods.

…

"This is my place."

Puck inspects the small room.

"Wow… It's… great."

"Yeah, right."

"How's work?" he asks.

She shrugs.

"Haven't gotten an audition in weeks. Not since my nude photos appeared in that magazine."

"I'm sorry, San."

"I screwed it up."

"_Elle _didn't call?"  
>"No, they didn't."<p>

And finally, she allows herself to cry. She breaks down into his arm and cries until her whole body aches.

"I can't catch a fucking break and Berry's in a fucking Broadway musical."

"Hey, don't compare yourself to her."

"I know, I know."

"They will forget about the photos, eventually."

She nods and sits down her bed. It squeaks forebodingly.

"I just want to _be _someone."

"You already are someone, San. You're Santana fucking Lopez."

"That doesn't mean much."

"It does to me."

She gives him a kiss because he's wonderful and doesn't hold grudges.

"Look, San. Don't take this the wrong way, but maybe you need a break. You've been doing this for long time and it's bringing you down."

She sighs.

"No one gets me. No one supports me."

"I support you" he says sternly. "I buy every fucking movie you're in, I recorded you're fucking commercial. I brag about you endlessly. And I flew across the fucking country to see you sing."

She feels the tears burn behind her eyelids again.

"You do that?"

"Yes."

And he never does lie.

"I just wanna be a star, Puck" she says.

He nods.

"I know, but isn't there more important than other things? Like living in a decent place or feeling good about yourself? Like having friends, or love?"

She can't look at him anymore.

"I don't think so."

He exhales loudly.

"I'm going home, San. And I'm not going to wait forever for you. I've waited four years, I'm not waiting four more."

"Okay."

"Okay."

…

She puts him on Google Alert so that she will find out if he gets engaged. She appears in a very, very erotic movie so that she can buy food. She begins sleeping one of the big movie producer's assistant, a gawky thirty year old, with the hope that it might get her somewhere. Nothing happens though. She serves burgers to perverts and waits for her big break .And waits. And waits.

…

He goes on dates. And gets mindlessly bored. There isn't anything wrong with the girls from Ohio's neighboring towns, there really isn't. But Puck finds himself bored out of his mind. They talk about work and the weather and what Letterman did on his show. They smile and he fucks some of them, just for distraction. He tells himself that he isn't waiting for her still, that he has moved on, but he knows that it isn't true.

…

Then it happens. She gets cast in a movie, she gets to play one of Penelope Cruz's cousins and is given two lines. She screams when she finds out. She wants to celebrate, buy drinks and dance on tables. Have people toast her and congratulate her. But there's no one there. Just the flies and her landlord demanding last month's rent.

…

He's checking Brittany's mom's car when she comes back.

"Hey" she says.

"Hey" he says.

They stare at each other. She's wearing one of those revealing dresses, but no makeup and her hair looks shorter.

"I read about your part" he says. "I'm so happy for you."

He kisses her cheek and pats her back.

"Thank you."

"What are you doing here?"

"I was so, so excited to get the role. So happy. But the only person I wanted to talk to was you. I wanted you to kiss me and lift me up and spin me around."

"San…"

"And somehow, that feels more important. The kissing and spinning feels more important then saying the words _thank you, mom_ in a movie."

"What are you saying?"

She takes his oily hand and kisses him.

"I think I'm done."

"You think?"

"No, I know."

"What about Penelope?"

"She'll manage."

Puck grins. He kisses her and then lifts her up and spins her around. She laughs and closes her eyes. And finally Santana understands. Playing in front of crowd or getting attention of photographer, it doesn't really measure up to having someone who loves you. Finally, she gets it.


End file.
